


Rumble

by violentcrumbles



Series: Week of Drabbles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Series, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentcrumbles/pseuds/violentcrumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Week of Drabbles: Monday</p><p>Prompt: Belly rub</p><p>The scary alpha werewolf, laid low by belly rubs. Stiles is going to tell <em>everybody</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumble

**Author's Note:**

> Am writing a drabble a day for the next week. As you can see, this one got a bit longer than a drabble. 
> 
> Finished yesterday, so posting as Monday's. Expect Tuesday's sometime tonight.

“Goddammit, Stiles! I said no!” Derek growls, grabbing Stiles by the arms and pushing him up against the counter in the burned-out Hale kitchen. 

Stiles’ head knocks back against the charred remnants of a cupboard, loosing a snow of dust and dark ash. Derek’s eyes are flashing red, and he’s leaning more of his weight against Stiles. The counter is digging into his back, and Stiles reaches forward as best he can for anything to yank himself back up. His fingertips catch the edge of Derek’s shirt and he pulls, only to have his other hand slip underneath the hem and grasp at skin underneath. 

Derek freezes mid-snarl, and lets out a soft little gasp. Stiles is shocked; his fingers twitch involuntarily against Derek’s abs and Derek makes the sound again. Derek’s grip loosens and his eyes flutter shut. Stiles slowly, carefully, places his palm against Derek’s stomach before sliding it slowly up, feeling the soft skin over firm muscle. Derek whines, actually whines, when he stops, so Stiles slides his hand back down, coarser hairs pricking against his palm as his wrist rests against Derek’s belt buckle. 

“You’re…you’re still wrong,” Derek grits out. Stiles can’t even remember what they were arguing about, hand coming up for another sweep. Derek’s got his head pressed against Stiles throat, panting hotly down his collar and it should be so awkward but it’s kind of amazingly awesome instead for reasons Stiles isn’t going to examine too closely. Stiles presses harder and holy shit--

“Are you sure you’re not a werecat? Because that sounds like a purr to me.” Stiles grins. 

“Shut up,” Derek manages. 

“Say we’ll go with my plan or I’ll stop.” Stiles may not be entirely clear on what his plan actually _was_ but if he’s going to have Derek all pliant and semi-agreeable, he should at least get something out of the situation. 

“Mm.” Derek nuzzles in, stubble scraping Stiles’ collarbone.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.” Stiles says. And seriously, this is great! The scary alpha werewolf, laid low by belly rubs. Stiles is going to tell _everybody_. 

Except then, Derek makes this little rumbly noise deep in his chest and his body just melts against Stiles, and this is probably the first time Stiles has ever seen Derek anywhere near the same universe as “relaxed”. 

So now that he thinks about it, “with great power comes great responsibility” and Stiles really _is_ the only one of them responsible enough to handle this kind of power... So maybe he’ll just keep it to himself. He rubs a thumb across Derek’s navel. Derek purrs louder.

Yeah, Stiles will just have to bear the burden of knowledge alone. Darn.

**Author's Note:**

> I generally post my fic on my [Tumblr](http://scikopathik.tumblr.com/%20) before I post it here, as well as the occasional musings and tidbits. So come by and say 'howdy'!


End file.
